


to seduce a stranger (maryisa valentine's day drabble sequence)

by heathtrash



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Sequence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Valentine's Day Fluff, female Ozymandias because headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash
Summary: Marisa Coulter has to deceive Mary Malone to find out information about her daughter, but how far will the deception lead her?A drabble sequence for Valentine's day with a vague plot.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 44
Kudos: 38





	1. composure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this! it's my first contribution to this fandom and pairing so i thought i'd do something cute for them for valentine's day! the angst seasoning shaker might have come out, but a fluffy ending awaits

In an act of defiance, Marisa informed Boreal that no, she would not be needing him to drive her, and that yes, she was perfectly capable of finding the college by herself.

If only she hadn’t had to struggle with rain, being crammed against a leery man on the omnibus, and a battery of blasphemies—perhaps she would have noticed as a small flurry of a woman approached her in the bustling library reception.

“Are you all right? You seem lost.”

Marisa regained her composure. “I’m looking for a Mrs. Malone.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about a Dr. Malone?”


	2. this couldn't be her

This woman could not be the one Boreal meant—she had a wild burst of curling red hair that ended somewhat abruptly at her chin, and wrestled with a teetering stack of paper.

Boreal described her as “running her own department”, and Marisa had tried to imagine the shape of her—tall, imposing, immaculately put together in every way, and beautiful, of course—someone like she strove to be. 

This diminutive woman with her softly accented voice was not the person she had anticipated confronting.

Marisa had been wrong about her on all parts except one—Mary Malone was beautiful.


	3. you don't know me at all

Marisa did not know what it was about Dr. Malone—this academic in blue jeans—but she had shifted the ground underneath her feet in a way that Marisa could never have predicted.

“You don’t strike me as a woman who would let anyone hold you back,” Mary responded to Marisa’s confession about her work. “Screw those men who made you feel inferior.”

Marisa scowled at what Mary was implying. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe not, but I’d like to.” 

Marisa’s gaze lingered on Mary’s smile for another second. This was going to be harder than she thought.


	4. failure

Boreal turned up in his sleek Rolls-Royce to collect her, smug as ever. She wrenched open the door and clambered in, haughtily ignoring his questions as she reflected what had gone wrong.

At first, an easy torrent of lies slipped from her tongue. It had barely been a challenge to get this Dr. Malone to believe that she was a visiting academic—but then, at some point that she couldn’t recall, Mary had lulled her into revealing her a fragment of her vulnerability.

Marisa pursed her lips.

Worst—she had neglected to ask about Lyra. She would have to return.


	5. coffee

Marisa stood stiffly by the till, taking in the ground coffee haze. Extending an olive branch—or at least coffee—was ostensibly the decent thing to do after walking out on Mary.

“Fancy seeing you here,” came a gentle voice behind her that made her catch her breath.

“You’re early,” Marisa returned, immediately regretting her tone.

Mary smiled. “So are you.”

As they took a seat at the table by the window, Marisa removed the plastic tray from between them. Mary gave her a shy look over the top of her mug.

Marisa sighed. “What do you want to know?”


	6. arm's length

Marisa Coulter was unlike any person Mary had met before. Ghosting behind her eyes occasionally was a curious otherworldly emptiness that Mary found unsettling, before Marisa seemed to catch herself and smile in that way that Mary found so undoing.

She didn’t know what Marisa’s story was—she’d barely answered any of her questions with remotely meaningful responses—but the mystery only made her more enticing.

Mary could tell she was being held at arm’s length—she’d been there before—but she had known she was in trouble from the moment her eyes had rested on Marisa’s perfectly formed lips.


	7. temptress

Playing the temptress always came so naturally to Marisa, but she found herself torn between doing what was expected, and what she desired.

Mary’s little _“oh”_ of surprise when she saw her lounging across the back bench of her lecture theatre made Marisa smirk and bite her lip with the deliciousness of Mary’s innocence. 

As the rowdy congregation of students departed, Marisa approached Mary packing away her notes—with a gentle susurration in her ear, asked if she would like to meet later.

Without Ozymandias, it was hard to recognise genuine feelings, but she supposed she had made her choice.


	8. doubts

Leaving was supposed to be the hardest part, but it was the return that Marisa dreaded.

The door opened to a cacophony of hurt as she caught a flash of disappointment and betrayal in Ozymandias’s eyes, and felt the cut nerves reconnect in a searing consecration of pain that she knew she deserved.

Soft golden fur brushed against her leg as Marisa swept past Ozymandias through the bedroom door. She doubted her ability to do what she had to. Here, where she was vulnerable, her determination gave way to emotion.

Ozymandias scowled opposite her.

No. She had to follow through.


	9. to betray her

It was so easy to read Mary, though she had no dæmon to betray her emotions. Those blushes and smiles told her all she needed to know. Marisa traced her fingertips over Mary’s jawline, tilting her chin up, daring her to respond. But as she leaned in closer, inches from Mary’s lips—Marisa tensed—and withdrew.

“Wait— Marisa.”

Marisa was already stalking away, ashamed of her weakness. But this wasn’t how she wanted it.

Soft fingers caught her hand. Mary’s face, still pink, was hurt and confused.

Voice hollow, Marisa whispered, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Her hand slipped from Mary’s.


	10. you have your secrets

“You’re back, then.” Mary’s accusatory folded arms and the unimpressed twist of her mouth was a sting.

“I don’t want you thinking that I—” Marisa broke off. She couldn’t give an excuse that sounded plausible.

“You have your secrets, I understand. I just want to spend time with you, if that’s what you want.”

Marisa couldn’t meet her eye as she admitted, “I do want that. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Mary stepped a little closer, testing the boundaries. “Come for dinner at mine? Just dinner.”

Ozymandias’s connection tugged inside Marisa as her control wavered, but she gave a hesitant nod.


	11. how long has it been?

Marisa, draped over Mary’s sofa after dinner, heavy with wine and easy conversation, frowned as Mary flexed her shoulders. Marisa shuffled closer to her, tucking her feet under her, and squeezed her hands over the aching muscles.

“Long days hunched over a computer will do this,” Mary groaned. “Long nights, too.”

Marisa’s expression softened as her hands accidentally grazed the soft curls at Mary’s nape. “When did someone last do this for you?” 

“A lifetime ago.” The relief Mary felt was tangible under Marisa’s fingers. “Thank you.”

Marisa crushed down the nasty guilt telling her she should stop. “You’re welcome.”


	12. the illusion has to be perfect

“You can’t be serious, Carlo.”

A smile curled Boreal’s lips as he appraised the flimsy black lingerie in her hands. “I knew that set would appeal to you.”

Marisa had to fight every urge in her body to hurl it across the room. “When would I need to wear something like that?”

“The illusion has to be perfect,” Boreal said coolly. “Or don’t you want to find out more information from your little friend? That’s why you’ve been spending so much time with her, isn’t it?”

Marisa smirked to disguise her deep disgust. “Of course.” 

Ozymandias clenched her fists tightly.


	13. playing games

Marisa pondered what her next move should be in getting information from Mary. Boreal’s plan was crude—yet she found herself invited to Mary’s again to continue this slow game of cat-and-mouse.

She wasn’t even sure if she was playing a game—she wasn’t playing Boreal’s game, certainly. But as she thought more on it, Marisa realised she had made a mistake in coming here at all. She ought to leave this poor woman alone—for her own protection.

She would find Lyra some other way. Now she only had to ween herself from her addiction to Mary’s irresistible tenderness.


	14. don't think i can't tell

“Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re pushing me away.”

Marisa wrinkled her eyes shut, fighting off the headache that bloomed beneath her brow. “You’d never understand.”

“Try me,” Mary’s gentle voice flared with challenge.

Marisa stood abruptly to hide her involuntary scowl. She normally had a firm discipline over her connection with Ozymandias, but tonight—

“Perhaps it would be better if I left.” Marisa gathered her jacket from Mary’s coat stand and fled out into the dark rainy street before Mary could object. 

This betrayal couldn’t go on. Mary was too kind a person to be involved with her.


	15. give me a chance

The message came up on Marisa’s phone. “Marisa, please give me a chance.”

Marisa narrowed her eyes against the tears that welled up, despite her best efforts. She couldn’t see Mary—she no longer could execute Boreal’s plan, and meeting her meant that she would have to.

Ozymandias crept up beside her on the bed. At first, Marisa slapped the monkey away—but then allowed her to come back and lay her hand on Marisa’s leg.

The touch broke through her carefully constructed defences—Marisa buried her angry, shameful tears into the cotton sheets as Ozymandias curled into her chest.


	16. you can't be here

Mary looked up at the building she had found Marisa’s number registered to. She knocked tentatively.

Marisa emerged in the doorway, shock distorting her features. “You can’t be here. He’ll be back soon.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“You’d better come inside.”

Mary was baffled as she followed in Marisa’s wake through an intimidatingly fancy house. “Would you please tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

Marisa took a deep breath, looking more desperate than Mary had ever seen her. “What I’m going to tell you might not make sense, but I need you to trust me.”


	17. how to address her soul

Mary squeezed Marisa’s hand at the bedroom door. It did not matter that Marisa’s revelation meant half of the departmental library was now useless—she was more concerned with how Marisa had been manipulated by this Boreal idiot—and wanted to help her find Lyra.

The golden monkey cowered when Mary crouched before her, but approached at Marisa’s command.

“Hello, little one.” She wasn’t sure how to address someone’s soul, or even if she should, but Marisa stood by, wordless.

This was the reason Marisa’s eyes looked distant—because she locked away her soul to protect her from this world.


	18. it's a work in progress

“When are you planning on seducing Malone? We need that information about your daughter.”

Marisa rolled wine over her tongue, running her fingers over the stem of her glass. “It’s a work in progress. You can’t rush these things, Carlo.”

Ozymandias watched Grizel cautiously.

“Perhaps you’re losing your touch? I thought you said she was an easy target.”

Marisa gave a cold laugh. “Maybe I’m enjoying playing with my food. And Carlo, I’ll need the alethiometer from the safe. Showing Malone will help win her trust.”

The black lace lingerie would remain unworn until Boreal was no longer a problem.


	19. promise

Boreal emerged from the safe. “I’ll want it back.”

Intrusive fingers smoothed down the curve of her back as he passed it to her, meeting the fastenings of her brassiere. Marisa’s ears pricked up in displeasure, but she arranged her face into a forced smile.

“Thank you.” Her voice was a low whisper in her throat in that way she knew men found irresistible.

When she was finally alone, Marisa unfolded the velvet, trembling. Small fingerprints marked the gold casing that could only belong to her daughter.

“Lyra,” she murmured, as if in prayer, “I promise I will find you.”


	20. office hours

Boreal’s words taunted Marisa as she strode through the corridors. Soon, his time would come.

“Marisa!” Mary spluttered as Marisa burst in while she was sipping her coffee. “What are you doing here?”

Marisa couldn’t help smiling. “These are your office hours?”

“But—”

“Won’t you come out with me?”

Mary exhaled in bewilderment. “I can’t leave in the middle of the day. I’ve got lectures to take.” 

Marisa took Mary’s hand in her own and drew her to her feet, brushing a finger over the coffee on her lip. “Can’t you?”

“I really can’t. But later? Come by at seven.”


	21. radio silence

Marisa didn’t come by at seven. None of Mary’s calls even reached her phone for days. 

Maybe she had gone back to her world, where people’s souls wandered around freely and women couldn’t get recognition for their work without a man’s name.

Or maybe Boreal had discovered what had happened—but that was too awful to think about.

But Marisa was painfully proud, if she’d learnt anything. Maybe she regretted how close they had become, or was embarrassed about how she had broken down in front of Mary.

Whatever had happened, Mary just hoped this radio silence would end soon.


	22. he's gone

“He’s gone,” was the text that had caused Mary to cancel her lunch with her colleagues and take the bus to Marisa’s house.

Her heart was in her throat as she alighted from the bus, and her feet unusually light as she found herself in front of that door again.

It opened before she could raise her hand to knock, and while she was considering the anaesthetic properties of the green silk of Marisa’s dress on her mental processing, she let herself be tugged in by the belt loops of her jeans and pressed between the wall and Marisa’s lips.


	23. isn't this what you want?

Marisa smoothed her hands over Mary’s shoulders to free her from the jacket, cast it away, and eased Mary down onto the pillows as she began the seduction she had performed for countless men—disrobing down to black lace.

“Marisa, stop—”

Marisa froze. Mary stared up, concern written into the wrinkles about her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t this what you want?” She sat back on her heels, diminishing as Mary broke her spell. 

Mary leaned forward, imprinting a soft kiss on Marisa’s cheek. “Tell me what you want,” she murmured against her skin. “My pleasure is your pleasure.”


	24. a borrowed silk robe

The smell of coffee roused Marisa from sleep. 

She tensed as she realised she’d slept in, but Mary in a borrowed silk robe holding a tray caused an involuntary _“oh”_ to escape her throat.

“Good morning.” Mary beamed. “Did you sleep well?”

Thoughts of the previous night provoked a small smile. “I did.”

“I’m glad.” Mary flushed, and the sight made Marisa long to feel Mary’s light touch upon her skin again.

“What do you have there?”

Mary hesitated before setting down the tray. “I forgot it was Valentine’s day today, and I know it’s silly, but— I made pancakes.”


	25. valentine

“St. Valentine’s day? I thought you weren’t religious any more.”

Mary shook her head, chuckling. “It’s a purely secular thing here, to sell chocolate and flowers. Or an excuse to make heart-shaped pancakes for your girlfriend.”

Marisa could have melted at that last word. “Is that what we are?”

Mary blushed deeply. “Well— it was just—”

Marisa shushed her gently and kissed her.

“Oh—there’s this truly awful work thing I have tonight—it’s a sort of second-chance mixer for the students. Would you— be my date?”

Marisa gave her most alluring smile. “I wouldn’t want you taking anyone else.”


	26. snow

“It’s snowing.”

Mary came up behind her and trailed a hand down her back. “Mesmerising, isn’t it? We’ll have to walk then, but it’s not too far to mine.”

Marisa had barely zipped her garment bag closed over her outfit when she realised her face was burning crimson. Looking up, she saw Mary giving Ozymandias a tender kiss to her head and an apologetic goodbye.

“You all right?”

Marisa flushed even more to be caught in such a state. “Of course.”

They made their way outside, finding each other’s hands as they left their first footprints together in the snow.


	27. i thought of a way

Mary stomped snow out of her shoes, and deposited the keys with a jangle in the bowl by the door.

“I thought of something that might be useful for Ozymandias, so you can keep her with you when you’re out and about.”

She left a puzzled Marisa in the hall while she retrieved the item.

“It’s a cat carrier you can wear as a backpack. Or I could, if it’s not your style. I just noticed how much happier you are when she’s around.”

Marisa’s face crumpled slightly. “We would— like to try.”

Mary pulled her into a warm embrace.


	28. gay little outfits

A printed name had called out to her from the spine on the bookshelf. Marisa turned the book over in her hand, where a younger Mary smiled up at her from an unfamiliar coast.

“Oh—don’t look at that old thing,” Mary’s voice travelled into the room.

Marisa looked over her shoulder, to be floored by Mary in a sharp navy suit, a red bowtie hanging undone over her shirt. She drew Mary to her by her bowtie ends, into a heated kiss.

“Marisa? I just got dressed,” a blushing Mary murmured.

Marisa smirked. “I’m sure the students can wait.”


	29. a clink of pins

“I might have undone the effort you put into your hair for tonight,” Mary admitted with a shy smile. “Could I—?”

Marisa nodded, and sat at the dresser. She was not used to handing over control to another, but Mary was gentle.

Pins clinked onto the table as Mary removed them, and Marisa closed her eyes as the brush flowed through her hair. She watched through the mirror as Mary sectioned off her hair, twisting and repinning it into a soft chignon.

“Is that okay?”

Marisa lifted Mary’s chin to kiss her. “You may have to do that every day.”


	30. marchpane

Mary certainly was a beloved member of staff, Marisa observed.

She cradled her wine glass, watching Mary, letting her take the lead. It felt strange to not be in the limelight—though welcome.

One of Mary’s colleagues was handing around Valentine’s chocolates. Mary took one and raised it to Marisa’s lips. She bit into it, and beneath a shell of dark chocolate was—

“Marchpane.”

Mary frowned, and popped the other half in her mouth. “Oh— marzipan.” By Mary’s significant look, Marisa knew there was a story there she would love to hear, and hoped for many more they would share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


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